My Brother's Keeper
by SecretAgent86
Summary: My name is Lily Luna Potter, I am ten years old, and I was brought into this world for a very specific reason: to save my brother's life.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi, this is my first story I posted on fanfiction, and I would really love for some feedback (please review), and maybe even a beta reader. By the way this is an AU, but I tried to keep the characters the way the amazing Jo Rowling intended them to you all for reading; I really appreciate it. This is loosely (very very loosely) based off of Jodi Picoult's amazing, _My Sitster's Keeper_. Right now it may seem similar, but I promise it will eventually diverge almost totally from the book.  
**

* * *

My name is Lily Luna Potter, I am ten years old, and I was brought into this world for a very specific reason: to save my brother's life. I am alive today because he needed me, but he is alive because I was born. Funny how life works out, isn't it?


	2. Chapter 2

It all started eleven years ago, when my brother James was four years old. That was when he started being constantly tired, getting huge bruises, and having nosebleeds, all of the time. My mum and dad took him to St. Mungo's, but they just brushed it off, saying it'd go away. But it didn't. Three months later they, convinced something was wrong, took him to see a muggle doctor. They ran tests, and then more tests, and then some more. Then they referred them to a see a Hetamology/Oncology Specialist. There they ran some blood tests, and confirmed what they had all suspected; James had Acute Promyelocytic Leukemia, a rare form of Acute Myeloid Leukemia. It was the beginning of the end. Well, for me anyways.

With no known cure, and some things that magic just cannot do, my parents were willing to do anything to save James. What he needed, however, was something that they could not give him: a bone marrow transfusion. They tried, believe me, they did, but neither of them were tissue matches for James. Nor was my other brother, Albus. All of my cousin's aunts and uncles in my family also underwent the dreaded finger prick, only to find that none of them fit the bill either. No one could save James. That's when the doctor suggested trying for another kid who'd actually be a perfect tissue match for James.

My parents, of coarse, being unwilling to lose their son, would go to the ends of the world to save him, and that's what they did. Well, they went to America anyways. You see, here, there are laws against creating spare-part-babies, as I am so titled, that even the Wizengamot cannot bend, not even for famous Harry Potter. So, they went to America where the doctors took lots of embryos from my mum and found one using a huge microscope that was the perfect match for James. That embryo was yours truly. He implanted it in mum, and poof, nine months later I was born.

The most important thing about my birth was my umbilical cord, the thing that is normally thrown out. All they wanted was the cord, and I was an after thought, or as Al says, "an added bonus." Al's nice like that, but we both know that that's not really the truth; at the time, I was just some kid they were stuck with as the result of saving their first son. But now, I'm the reason he's still alive, and yet, it's going to kill me doing it. I am Lily Luna Potter, I'm ten years old, and I am going to die so that my brother can live.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi! Thank you so much for reading my story! It means so much to me. If anyone would possibly like to beta my story, I would be really, really happy and appreciative. I just want to say that I am doing my best with all of the medical things in this story, but if anyone finds any errors in that, I would love for you to point them out to me. Thanks again for reading, and I would really appreciate some reviews (and I don't own Harry Potter). Thanks!**

* * *

Today is Monday. Yesterday was Sunday. Tomorrow will be Tuesday. Seems like pretty basic knowledge, doesn't it. Well, when you are grappling with things outside the realms of possibility and reality, you tend to find comfort in the simple things. That's me; I have to search for the truth in all of the easy things in life, otherwise I worry that I'll just _poof_ and disappear.

I am currently sitting in an uncomfortable hospital chair, waiting for Jamie. You see, right now he is going through chemo to try and kill off all of the mutated, cancerous cells in his body. Trouble is, with chemo, not only the bad cells are killed. The chemo destroys everything in its path, which is why James has no hair, and we are having a contest to see how long he can go without barfing. His record is seven hours. He wants to beat that record, but by the looks of it, and the green hue that his skin has taken on, he'll only last about thirteen more minutes. Passing the time until his breakfast (ha, Jamie knows better than to eat breakfast on chemo days) is brought back up by retroperistalsis aka puking your guts out is done by our favorite game; Geography. What you do is one person says the place they most want to go or be in the world at the moment, and the other person has to take the last letter of said location, and use it to form another area. Today we're playing countries only.

"Belgium," said James.

I countered that with a, "Malta," without missing a beat.

"Australia," he shot back.

"Albania,"

"Argentina," was his. I kick some serious butt at this game, so James can never beat me. No matter his country or city, I always find one.

"Armenia," I smiled.

"Lily, how come all of the A countries end in A?" he asked exasperatedly.

I smirked, saying, "I can think of one that doesn't end in A. Now stop avoiding and come up with one."

He scowled, thinking hard. At long last it came to him, "aha!" he cried. "Afghanistan," he looked really proud of himself, which caused me to laugh.

"You call yourself a Geography wiz? It took you four minutes to come up with Afghanistan? That's pathetic! Norway by the way." At this point our thirteen minutes were up, and James had turned crazy green. He grabbed for the bucket, and, to put it kindly, spilled his cookies. Our mum rushed into the room, and began rubbing his back, a Kleenex at the ready so he could wipe his mouth.

"It's okay, James," she soothed, rubbing circles on his back as he continued to retch. I sat back in my chair; this was too much a regular occurrence for me to be worried or grossed out. No, neither the sound of barf hitting the bucket, nor Jamie retching is exactly pleasant, but, like I said, I'm used to it. I swear, was raised in the hospital with this, so it'd be weirder for me if James and I were doing something "normal," like going to the park, or going sledding. For me, this _is_ normal.

When James finally stopped and wiped his mouth on the tissue out mum provided, he looked up at me and said, "Yugoslavia. How long did I last this time?"

"Abkhazia, and forty-nine and a half minutes this time," I told him.

James sighed; it was not one of his better times and he wasn't thrilled to get another A country. "Angola."

I grinned. Our mother sat down on the bed, waiting for the chemo to be done so we could go home. "Anguilla."

"Lily, you suck," grimaced James as he spat up quickly in the bucket. Not taking the Kleenex offered to him by our mother holding the box, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, prompting a, "that's not sanitary, Jamie dear. Use the tissue," from our mum, which we both ignored. "Antarctica," he said at last.

"That's not even a country! We're doing countries, remember, or did the chemo fry your brain cells?" I teased. James laughed, our mother frowned and said warningly, "Lily."

"Fine," he grumbled, "Austria."

"I'll give you a break today, "Azerbaijan."

"What the hell is that? Is that even a country?" He asked incredulously. I grinned and nodded smugly. "How do you even know this?" I gave him a cheeky look that said very plainly, "I'm amazing at this game, that's how." "Nepal, hey when are the nurses coming in?"

"Luxembourg, I'm not sure, I think they said you'd be done around 11:30, so that's about thirty-seven and three quarters more minutes."

"Okay. Germany," he looked crazy satisfied, because I knew he was sure that he'd already used the only Y country that there was. "Yemen," I yawned plaintively, earning a scowl from James. I couldn't help it; I dominate at this game. It's what you get when you spend almost all of your life being bored in a hospital, and read the geography book in the waiting room for fun.

"New Zealand."

"Denmark," I swear, he was making this so easy.

"Kuwait," James said after a moment or two.

"Turkey," inwardly I was smiling; I knew I had this game in the bag, and had delivered the final blow. On the outside I had on my perfected poker face.

James screwed up his face thinking, and finally growled, "Fine! You win, Lily, I can't come up with one!"

"Haha, I win, you lose, now you've got to smell my shoes," I taunted.

"What, you want me to barf again?" he snapped, pretending to be angry.

"Very funny, Jamie. But we both know that you're just pissed you lost a game of Geography to your ten year old sister, and you're what now, sixteen?" I loved doing that with him. If he was in a relapse, James would at this point tackle me and pin me down, tickling me like crazy; however, he's not in a relapse too often, so most of the time he's too weak, and contents himself with swatting at my head. I ducked, and stuck out my tongue. I then went over and sat next to him on the bed. He shifted so that I could rest my head on his chest.

We stayed like that for a while, neither moving; this was after all, our signature position. About ten minutes later Al came in. He sat down in the chair that I had left a few minutes ago.

"How long?" he questioned.

"Forty-nine—"

"And a half!" I added.

"Minutes," finished James.

"Not so good this time, hunh, James?" asked Al, smirking a bit. James flipped him off, which caused mum to say, "Don't do that Jamie, it's not polite." James rolled his eyes, and Al smirked again. I laughed. I loved my brothers so much. They're the best big brothers ever. Al is the one who is always making me feel better and laugh. James is the one who I can tell anything to. James and I kind of have to be close; we are always spending so much time together in the hospital, see. Lots of times, Jamie and I would just talk for hours and hours, about any and everything. I'd come into his room, and he'd scoot over in his little hospital bed, making room for me. I'd climb in next to him, and he'd wrap his arm around me; the arm without the IV. We'd stay like that all day, and often slept like that, our parents not wanting to disturb Jamie, and the doctors and nurses not having the heart to kick me out.

Whenever I was recovering from some type of surgery, sometimes the nurses would allow my bed to be wheeled into his room. Those times James would normally climb into my bed, me being too weak or tired to move. No matter how sick he was, I would always wake up to find Jamie lying by my side, or holding my hand.

When his kidneys started to fail and he had to go through hours of dialysis, I would always sit with him. He got to be very good at plaiting my long red hair. I would sit with my back against his knees, chattering away while he braided my hair. It sounds weird for a guy to be good at hair, but we were always bored and looking for things to do. I pride myself in saying that out of the two of us, I have much more patience when it comes to sitting in the hospital and waiting, despite the fact that my brother is six years my senior. Maybe its because my parents wanted me to be that way, and asked the geneticist for a child with good patience. Who knows?

When the clock reached 11:34, a nurse, Janine, came in and said, "All good to go this time sweetie." She unhooked the iv from James's arm, and wrote a few things down on her clipboard. "See you next Monday, okay," to which we all nodded. Our mother then led us all out of the hospital and to our muggle car. The thing about Jamie's cancer is that it makes traveling by magic difficult. Confused? Well, I can explain.

Nine years ago, James, was diagnosed with Acute _Promyelocytic_ Leukemia, a distinct subtype of acute myeloid leukemia (AML) caused by a translocation (rearrangement of genetic material) between the PML gene on chromosome 15 and the RARA gene on chromosome 17 which fuses part of the PML gene with part of the RARA gene. APL is characterized by abnormal, heavily granulated promyelocytes, a form of white blood cells. APL results in the accumulation of these atypical promyelocytes in the bone marrow and peripheral blood, and replaces normal blood cells. You're probably still befuddled, most likely more so than you were forty-five seconds ago. Well, all you really need to know is that James's cancer is caused by a mutation in some of his DNA.

If you didn't already know, DNA is the genetic material or all living things, which is what makes us who we are. It is what determines your hair color, and your height, and your hair texture. It also determines what type of proteins that your body will produce. It is made up of four bases that make up the famous double helix. These bases are Guanine, which pairs with Cytosine, and Adenine, which pairs with Thymine. I won't go into details, because explaining things like this isn't one of my strong points and I will most likely bewilder you and bore the pants off of you. All you need to know is that the DNA makes proteins according to the order of the bases. When there is a mutation, one of the bases is changed, which throws off the way the strand of DNA is read (if that doesn't make sense, think of it as; there are twenty different amino acids—which, when strung together form proteins—and four different bases, the only way to get all twenty different amino acids is to have the single DNA bases read in groups of three, or codons. When a mutation occurs changing a codon, it could delete one single base, which could then throw off the rest of the strand, meaning that the rest of the amino acids made by the strand of DNA are all wrong), which can cause cancer.

The mutation in the base pairs of DNA is unstable, and, when magic is applied to it, it becomes even more unstable. That is why James has to be treated in the muggle way, instead of by a healer. The magic would cause the mutation to multiply, and probably cause more mutations to occur (you were probably wondering why we were in a muggle hospital, and that is the answer). Also, in order to Apparate, or Floo, or Portkey somewhere, your whole body is subjected to magic to undergo the almost instantaneous transportation across however many miles. Basically, for Apparition, your whole body has to be dissolved into thin air and then squeezed through the space continuum, which, when you have unstable DNA, is not a good thing. Therefore, we travel in a muggle fashion, and James is treated in such way also.

Also, you might be confused as to why James, a wizard, has a muggle disease; an incredibly rare muggle disease at that. Well, that is because in my father's line, there is muggle heritage; my great grandparents on his mum's side were actually muggles. That is why James contracted this disease. Let me just say that cancer, and specifically APL in muggles is not common; out of the 30,800 cases of acute leukemia diagnosed yearly (in muggles), only roughly one thousand of these are APL. Now, cancer in wizards is really rare, but not unheard of. Wizards who have muggle relations within four generations are susceptible (which is most wizards actually), but the magic in us makes it much harder for the cancer to take root in the beginning, so wizarding cancer is way less common than muggle cancer. James's case is almost unique; he's the one of three known wizards to be diagnosed with APL. We've actually met several other wizarding children from all over the world with cancers and Leukemia's, but we've never met another wizarding APL. Heck, Jamie's only ever met one APL, and it was a muggle girl. Well, there you have it; we are an unusual family.

Anyways, like I was saying before I went off on a crazy long tangent, we were heading to our muggle car. James got shotgun, like always, even though it was supposed to be Al's turn, but seeing as James just had chemo, Mum and Al decided to let James sit in the front. So Al and I were in the back. I hate riding in the car because I have to sit in a booster seat owing to the fact that I am really small. I swear, I'm ten, but people always assume that I'm seven. You'd think that my parents would have chosen a kid without growth problems, but no, all they cared about was getting a match for James (and a kid with good patience), so I'm stuck being a miniscule midget, as Freddie calls me. The doctors say that I might be small owing to the number of surgeries and donations I go through, but I don't think that that's it. I think I was just destined to be born a shrinky dink (a stupid muggle toy that they let us play in the hospital, where you draw a picture and then you put it in some toy oven and it shrinks down into a little plastic thing; pointless, right?). Plus, even if the doctors are right about their theory, it doesn't matter that I'm small, as long as James is okay. I don't mind being tiny if James survives. That's what I'm here to do; save James, and I'll be damned if I don't do it, and I'll do whatever it takes.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! Please let me know if I made mistakes; I am now an ex AP Bio student, and rapidly forgetting what we learned. :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi! Thank you to everyone who has read my story, and a double thanks to those of you who have reviewed it! It means a lot to me, and I really appreciate it. Again, please feel free to correct me on scientific errors; I am doing my best, but am no scientist or doctor. Also, I would really appreciate reviews, and if anyone is interested in Betaing this story for me, I would be thrilled. Thank you all so much! :)**

**I thought that this might be helpful; it's an age guide for the ages of the cousins in this story (I messed with the ages in this story intentionally, if I were a reader, it would bother me too, but please don't be upset, it only works if I make the ages screwy). Here they are:**

**Teddy: 23  
Vic: 21  
Molly: 19  
Dom: 19  
Louis: 17  
Lucy: 17  
Fred: 17  
James: 16  
Roxie: 15  
Rose: 14  
Albus: 14  
Hugo: 13  
Lily: 10**

**Thanks again for reading!**

* * *

We got home from the hospital at around 12:30; we'd hit some bad traffic that drove Mum insane, because she wanted to use magic so badly. When we finally got home Al charged straight into the kitchen to get lunch. I helped Jamie out of the car and up to his room. Well, I say I helped him, but he would never admit it or willingly accept my help, so I just held his hand and walked with him up to his room. When the cancer is in remission, his room is an absolute pigsty, but when he's relapsing he doesn't have the energy to do much in it, and Mum cleans it for him. It is currently extremely clean, with not much on the walls. His room used to be red and gold, you know, for Gryffindor, but once Jamie found out that he couldn't go to Hogwarts what with his relapses being so frequent and remissions being so infrequent, he couldn't face the painful reminders everyday, and redesigned his room. Now it has dark blue walls and a matching bed spread. He has a few Quidditch posters lining the walls. Despite not being able to play, Jamie still loves to watch Quidditch; his team is the Falmouth Falcons, which are, incidentally, the most violent team in Britain, but Jamie loves them. He has their motto painted on the wall, "Let us win, but if we cannot win, let us break a few heads." We all love it.

I sat down in his room on the armchair in the corner, while James lay on his bed. I was just beginning to talk about how excited I was for the upcoming Flacons and Kestrels game when James interrupted, "Lila, I'm tired, I just want to take a nap, okay? Can we talk about this later?" His eyes, the lovely hazel eyes that I wish that I had gotten (I got Mum's brown), were so weary, and his voice so strained. It scared me, I must admit, seeing James looking so defeated at the moment. Sure, I'd seen him looking like this before, but he was always a fighter, my Jamie. Now, well now he looked like he was ready to throw in the towel after all of our hard work.

"Sure Jamie," I said, and went over and kissed his hairless head. He always said he didn't mind not having hair, that it made him look cool, but I was the only one who knew how much he wished he had his messy black hair back. I knew that he longed to share the hair that our father and brother both had; the trademark Potter hair. "Sleep tight, and don't—"

"Let the bedbugs bite," he finished for me like he always did. That was one of our traditions; he used to always say that to me when I was little before bedtime. Now that I was all grown up though, I said it back to him. It was just one of those things that we'll do forever.

I tiptoed out of his room, and shut the door quietly. Unsure of what to do, I retreated to my room. The walls in my room were pink and bedecked in Harpies posters. Knowing better than to do anything that had the potential to make any noise that could possibly disturb James, I crossed to my bookshelf and pulled a book at random. Marley and Me it is then. I settled down in my window seat, and opened the book. Despite the fact that I have read this book six times before, I still love it. It's that way for most of the books in my room. Heck, I've read all of Al's books (even his text books) and Jamie's too. When you can't do anything noisy as a kid, and your parents are always busy, you spend a lot of time reading. I've asked Mum to take me to a library to get some new books, but something has always come up. It's either Jamie or Al or Dad, but most of the time it's something to do with Jamie, so I content myself in rereading my favorites.

Some of the books that I love to read are Al's textbooks from Hogwarts. During the year, I can't read his current textbooks for obvious reasons, but I can read the ones from previous years. Al's going to be a fourth year in a few months. He gets to go to Hogwarts, as do the rest of my cousins. They are all so lucky. Hugo is going into his second year, so it's just James and me at home. Lucky us, right?

When Al went to Hogwarts for his first year, James and I both cried; I was seven, James was thirteen. We were both left at home though. James did his best not to be bitter and hate Al, but it was pretty hard. Me, I was just lonely and jealous. Back then, I had no idea that I would never be allowed to set foot in the magic castle where dreams come true (wow, that sounds really corny; like something out of some crappy Disney Princess movie). I was under the impression that in four years time I too would be allowed to go. Ya, I was naïve back then. Now I know that if James can't go, I can't go, and I'll be stuck forever envying Albus, the normal one.

I remember Al leaving like it was yesterday. We drove to the station, making good time according to Daddy. We got there with nineteen minutes and forty-seven seconds to spare. Al was both crazy excited, and crazy nervous. He was really good about not acting excited though. He knew how badly James (and I) wanted to go, so he just didn't really talk about it. As I said earlier, Al's nice like that.

James had been too upset to care about the people staring at his bald head and missing eyebrows and lashes. He had sulked, and, for the longest time, not wanted to go, but Daddy made him. I don't know what Daddy said to James to make him come with us, but obviously it worked. Before we were on the platform, and were in the muggle station, some random muggle lady came up to my mum and said, "God bless you, and I'll be praying for him," she gestured towards Jamie. She and Mum talked for a moment, and it transpired that she had had a daughter who'd had cancer and had not made it. Both she and Mum were in tears by the end of her story, which is saying something seeing as Mum isn't usually one to cry. They talked for six minutes and thirty three seconds; when we left the lady, her giving Mum a hug, and James a kiss on the forehead (to which he normally would have been appalled, but to which today, he just grimaced moodily) we had thirteen and a half minutes before the train left, taking Al away from us and all of this madness to a whole new world.

Dad took Al through the barrier, and Mum took James. Mum told me she'd come back for me, but Dad came instead, so we went through together. I wasn't afraid at all of running straight at the wall; I knew I'd get through.

The platform was so crowded, with families all over and kids running everywhere. I stuck to Dad like glue (because he had a firm hold on my hand, not because I wanted to), and found Al, Mum, and James just a ways off. I immediately went over to Jamie and reached for his hand, but he just brushed me away. I would be lying if I said that that had not hurt. When I was seven, I was too stupid to realize that an already upset thirteen year old boy would not want to hold his little sister's hand out in public. Dad pulled Al aside to talk to him for a bit, and Mum fussed over Jamie. I went off to find Hugo.

Hugo was with his mum and dad and Rose. Rosie and Al are really close (still) and she was anxious to find Al so they could sit together on the train. Hugo was sulking over by a pillar, so I went over to him. He had said to me, "Lily, I want to go to Hogwarts so bad! Don't you?" I told him that I did, but he only had one more year, whilst I had three more to go. He scowled at that and whined, "But I want to go now." Hugo could really be such a baby, and so immature at times.

Hugo and I talked for a little bit about school houses and where we wanted to be put. He wanted Gryffindor, I just wanted to be able to go. When it was finally time for the train to board, I hugged Rosie, and then Roxie, and Freddie, and Louis who had all come over to say hi and bye to us, and then went back over to my family. Mum was squeezing Al in what looked like a killer tight hug, and Dad was talking to Jamie. When Mum let go of Al, he turned and hugged Dad, and then Jamie. James, despite his bitter feelings, hugged our brother, and the two of them spoke. I didn't catch all of what they said, but I did hear the last of it. Albus had said, "I'm going to miss you James."

James gave a weak smile and told him, "Just make sure you do it for the both of us, okay. Cause trouble, and mischief, and have as much fun as you can." Al nodded. His eyes at this point looked damp, and he sniffed.

"I'm worried about you, Jamie," a single tear leaked out of his green eyes, which he furiously rubbed away. "W-what if something happens when I'm away? What if you…if…if…what if you can't…if Lily can't—"

"I'm a fighter, Allie," James cut across him firmly, placing a bony hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry about me, I'm not going to give up and let this beat me after all of this time. Hell no! I'll be right here waiting for when you come back. I wont leave you, got it?" Al nodded, and the two hugged. I thought that Jamie never looked so strong as when he was standing there, the sun gilding the top of his bald head, ignoring the unwelcome stares of those with pity in their eyes, assuring Al that he would fight until the end. It was at that moment that James officially became my hero.

With only three minutes left until the train left for the magical castle and new life, Al and James broke apart, and Al came over to me. I had been smart enough to pretend that I had not heard what had happened between them, and just went in to hug my big brother instead. "Be good Lily," he told me, face squished against my head. He didn't spit or cough, but I could tell that some of my hair had found its way into his mouth, but he didn't let it faze him. "I believe in you, and I know that you are going to do it. You are going to save Jamie, and we all believe in you. Don't ever forget that no matter what, no matter what happens, you'll always be my little sister, and I'll always love you, no matter what." I nodded, letting the salty drops cascade down my cheeks. That was the first time that someone had said that to me; that they didn't see me as a means to an end, but as a person who was to be loved for themselves just as much as for their ability to save someone else. I never forgot it.

That day, I lost a brother to a new life filled with magic and freedom and friendship, but I also learned that someone out there believed that I, myself was good enough on my own, with or without James. Of course I didn't believe him, and I still don't. Not the whole, "I'll love you no matter what" thing; I know that Al meant that. No, I don't believe what he said about me being good enough without James. I am sure that that is the one and only thing Albus Severus Potter was wrong about in his life; I don't exist without James, I can't exist without James, and I was put on this Earth to be his savior, so that is what I'll do. The thing I want most in the world is for James to live. I would do anything to make sure that that happens.

At 5:30, Mum called me downstairs to help her with supper. Tonight we were having fruit salad with plain yogurt, plain chicken, and plain white rice. We've found that fruit, especially watermelon, is the easiest for Jamie to keep down during his rounds of chemo, so we all eat a lot of it. Mum doesn't want James to feel different or left out, so we all eat it. The nurses always tell him, 'If you can keep it down, eat as much of it as you can." It's bland things and citrus fruit like melons that have worked best in the past, so meals are normally something along those lines. One of the oncology nurses said to Dad and James that their specialty is that they are the one doctors office that never asks you to lose weight. They thought it was pretty funny.

The only problem with us all sticking to a diet James can tolerate is that we don't get enough proteins, veggies, or grains. Back a few years ago, I was always feeling really weak, and was losing weight. Dad took me to see a healer, and she told me that I was malnourished, and needed to take in more proteins and more calcium. It was then that Mum started leaving snacks in Al's and my rooms so that we could get enough nutrients and proteins without having to make James feel left out. I happen to love watermelon and citrus fruit, so it all worked out fine.

As Mum and I chopped up the melon, she started asking me about whether or not I thought James looked paler today compared to last Monday. "He's got some color back, Mum," I assured her, lying through my teeth; he looked paler this week. That's the way it goes with chemo; during it, Jamie loses weight, is always tired, and looks like death. If the chemo works and the cancer goes into remission, then he gains some weight, grows some hair, and looks like someone who's actually alive. "He looks much better this week. I think the chemo is working and he'll go into remission."

Mum nodded, tucking her long hair behind her ears. Everyone thinks that I got my hair from my mother, but I'm not so sure. Her hair is bright red, orange if you will, while mine is just a fraction of a shade darker. It looks like her's, and you can only see a difference in direct sunlight if you know us well enough. I think I got my hair from Dad's mum; Grandma Lily. She also gave me my name.

At 6:43 Dad came home from work. He walked into the kitchen, kissed Mum lightly, ruffled my hair and gave my forehead an accompanying kiss, and asked, "How was chemo today?"

"It was good, Daddy. Jamie and I played Geography, and I won, as usual," I told him, reaching up to kiss his cheek (he had to bend down so that I could accomplish that).

Dad laughed and said, "That's my girl. Be nice to your brother though. I don't think he likes losing to you."

I gave him a smile and flipped my hair over my shoulders in a pretend coy way, "Don't worry Daddy," I said, batting my lashes, "He's used to it by now." Dad chuckled and gave me a wink. I left him and Mum in the kitchen and went upstairs.

I knocked super quietly on Jamie's door. No answer. I decided to leave him be, and went into Al's room. He looked up from one of his summer essays. He leaves to start his fourth year in about a month. "What are you working on?" I asked, peering over his shoulder at the parchment.

"Potions essay," he grumbled, chewing furiously on his quill.

"You're forgetting the moonstone in that," I gestured to his paragraph on how to brew the Draught of Peace. Al looked at the offending paragraph, and crammed in moonstone right after the powdered unicorn horn. He thanked me, and said that I was too smart for my own good.

"You're not even eleven, and you already know more than all of the fourth years, Flower." I grinned at him.

"I read a lot. Not much else to do, is there?" He gave me a sad smile. He knew what I meant. It was alright for him; he was away most of the year anyways. I, on the other hand, could not leave James, and was here all year. Don't get me wrong, I don't want to leave James, I love him, it's just that sitting around here is a little bit monotonous.

"Hey, one more year, baby, and you'll be coming with me."

I raised my eyebrows at him, "Al, don't," I warned.

"What, you'll be coming to Hogwarts in a year."

"You know very well that I won't be going. I have to stay here to keep James safe. He can't live without me, and you know it." Al sighed in defeat.

I used to dream of going to Hogwarts. Then I realized that as long as James doesn't get to go, I don't either. Al's the lucky one in our family: he gets to go to Hogwarts and be a kid and have fun. The rest of us, we get to go spend the majority of our time in a muggle hospital. You might wonder why I don't get to go to school, and reasonably so. It's because I'd be too far away if they needed me for some sudden surgery with James. Plus, in case you've spotted that obvious loophole, using Floo powder actually decreases your blood levels, like I said earlier. Not significantly so, but if you are constantly giving blood, like me, it makes a difference. It's also supposed to make your white blood levels drop for a few hours afterwards. Again, not enough to effect a normal person, but my blood needs to be perfect for James, so Floo travel is out. And if you think Apparating will work, think again. Firstly, you cannot Apparate in or out of Hogwarts. Secondly, it's supposed to be bad for kids to Apparate until they are fully developed and physically mature. Lastly, you've most likely heard of the awful squeezing constricting sensation that accompanies disappearing into thin air. Well, in short, you are basically being condensed into nothingness and then being pushed through the space continuum. Often you are dizzy afterwards, which is caused by the low oxygen levels in your blood, and because while physically Apparating, your blood actually stops moving (yes your heart stops pumping), which has no negative long-term affect on people, only it does cause temporary drops in white blood cell production. Also, if you have only one kidney, like so, it puts a lot of strain on it. All of the same holds true for Portkeys. Therefore, I cannot attend Hogwarts or go anywhere more than an hour away from James.

Al knows that it's a touchy subject, so he let it drop. I don't mind, not really anyways, so it's not a big deal, just a mild disappointment. We sat in silence for a bit, Al writing, me lying on his bed, gazing at the ceiling. It had been about twenty minutes of that before Mum knocked on the door. She was holding a tray of food. I hopped up and ran downstairs to bring up the rest of the food; we were all going to eat in Jamie's room because he was to tired to come downstairs. I had to make three trips to get it all, but when I did, I went into the room that held the rest of my family.

I climbed onto the bed with James, and he scooted over so that I could sit propped up on the pillows next to him. Mum and Dad were on the chair in the corner, and Al was sitting on the foot of the bed. Mum was gushing about how healthy James was looking while Dad nodded along with her. Al was stroking his barn owl, Pixie (I named her, and he hates the name, but it was too late to change it). James and I just sat there. After a while, I had to use the lavatory, so I got up from the bed and exited the room. The conversation never faltered.

I went outside and into our backyard. It's nice; we live on the edge of Godric's Hollow, so we have much more land than most of the others. Our backyard consists of a clearing surrounded by trees that was meant to be used as a Quidditch pitch. I sat down on the edge under an Apple tree, feeling the last rays of the dying sun on my arms and head. I've always loved sunsets. The way the sky changes from powder blue to light gray to orange to pink to purple to black in perfect harmony enthralls me. I can't get enough of it. The thing I love most is that I know what's coming, and yet I am always surprised; no two sunsets are the same. I wish that my life were like that, you know, on a set course that is all planned out for me, and no matter what I do, it will lead to beauty and peace. It's not though. It's not.

I sat under my tree and watched the sun vanish from the sky, the colors fade, and then the stars and moon rise slowly into the night. When I'm alone, I can feel at peace. I can feel like I am in charge of my life, and not my parents, nor my brother, nor the doctors, nor whatever higher power is up there, if there is one. Just me, and I have to admit, I like it that way.

It's funny, technically I am the one keeping our family together, the glue holding everything in place, but I always feel like I don't belong. Like I was an unwanted addition that messed up an already good family structure. I find trouble finding my place, and I always have. I often wonder if my parents even wanted to have another kid in the first place.

James, Al, and I love our parents, but at the same time, we hate them. We hate the mess that we're all in. We despise the way all of this has torn our family apart; Mum and Dad always arguing about treatment and procedures and me undergoing different donations. We can't stand the stress of life. We detest how none of us got a chance to actually be kids. I personally think that I sprung into existence as an adult. I've never had a childhood, I had to grow up basically the day I was born, and that's what I did. Well, when you look at what I needed to do, that's how it had to be. James got four years, and Al got two. That was all the time they had to be children before maturity and adulthood were thrust upon them. I never even got an hour; from the day my parents had the idea of convieving a saviour sibling, I was doomed. That's what we all hate.

One time, James, Al, and I were going to run away. James had decided he'd had enough, and we needed to escape. We all packed up our most important belongings, which for me, consisted of my teddy bear, the necklace my daddy gave me after my first bone marrow transplant to James, my favorite dress, my blanket, the most recent sweater Grandma had knitted for me, and my favorite story book. At three, I was not particularly practical. We managed to get to Kings Cross and were looking for a train before someone called security on the three kids wandering around the station without parents. James was clever and gave the security officers false names, but Al accidentally gave us away. He was only seven, so we can't really blame him. He said that his name was Albus. Not really a huge mistake, right? Wrong. One of the men working there was a squib, so had therefore heard of Albus Dumbledoor, and also of Harry Potter, our father, who he knew had named his son Albus. He put two and two together and fetched our parents. When Mum and Dad showed up, Mum sprinted up to James and pulled him and Al into a big hug. I was standing a little ways away, and they were right next to each other, so it was after a minute that she finally let go and came to hug me to her.

That was the first time that I knew for sure that I really did come second to Al and especially James in my mother's eyes. It didn't bother me so much, because I had already guessed it, even at the supposedly tender age of three. Plus, I had known since the moment I could talk that I existed to give life to James, not because my parents particularly wanted me. Sure, they wanted me so that I could save James, but they didn't want me for me. I've always known that, so it doesn't really trouble me. Dad told me once after my first bone marrow donation that I can remember that he loved me even more because of what I could do for Jamie. I believe that, I'm just not so sure that they'd love me if I couldn't, you know, do it.

The night had begun to get cold, and I had started shivering. I figured that, based on the position of the moon and the nearby stars, it must be around 10:30, so I had been out for a good three hours. I then decided to head inside again.

Once back in the house, I climbed up the stairs, conscious as ever not to make a sound. At the top landing I peaked into Jamie's room. Everyone was still in there. They were playing Once Upon A Time, a game where you have to tell a story in which everyone can only say one word, and you go around in a circle, finishing each other's sentences. I stood outside, concealed in the hallway's shadows, listening to the tale being spun.

"And," came Al's voice.

"Then," this was Dad talking.

"A," Mum this time.

"Giant," James filled in.

"Cockroach," back to Al.

"Cluster," Dad now.

"Came,"—Mum.

"To,"—James.

"Life,"—Al.

"And,"—Dad.

"Ate,"—Mum.

"The,"—James.

"Entire,"—Al.

"Display,"—Dad.

"Of,"—Mum.

"Bananas,"—James.

"The,"—Al.

"Manager,"—Dad.

"Of,"—Mum.

"The,"—James.

"Store,"—Al.

"Screamed,"—Dad.

"Like,"—Mum.

"A,"—James.

"Banshee,"—Al.

"And,"—Dad.

"Pulled,"—Mum.

"Out,"—James.

"A,"—Al.

"Killer,"—Dad.

"Evil,"—Mum.

"Potato,"—James.

"Which,"—Al.

"He,"—Dad.

"Used,"—Mum.

"To,"—James .

"Wallop,"—Al.

"The,"-Dad.

"Cluster,"—Mum.

"Into,"—James.

"Submission,"—Al.

"With,"—Dad.

At that point, I decided that I had heard enough, and went down the hall and into my room. Like usually, no one noticed my absence or missed me, not even Jamie. My parents normally only have eyes for James, for he's always on the brink, and needs all of their attention. Them not paying attention to me is no biggie. The same with Al. But James? Really? James? Well, when you think about it, when you spend most of your life feeling invisible, it is not at all surprising when you become invisible.

* * *

**Please let me know what you think. I am so grateful to each and every one of you who have read my story, and doubly grateful to the reviewers. Thanks! :)**

**-Lia**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hi Everybody! Sorry for the long wait; I've been quite busy, and I've had to do some research and change around my plan so that it can be medically correct. Again, I just really want to thank everyone who has read my story and continues to do so. I would really appreciate any reviews and/or medical corrections if any of my facts are off. On a different note, I fixed some previous errors in earlier chapters, the only major one being that I changed it from being eleven years ago that James was diagnosed with APL to twelve; it just makes more sense. Thanks again to anyone reading this, and I just want to say I am so grateful.  
**

* * *

The rest of the week passed uneventfully enough, with Mum practically force-feeding Jamie as much food as he could possibly eat (yes, in case you were wondering, he did barf several times, but chances are, you weren't wondering, and I am just talking to someone who doesn't really care, like always). Dad worked some long hours in the Auror office. Albus did his homework and went over to Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione's house to hang out with Rosie and Hugo. James slept a lot, and was visited by Freddie and Louis, who are pretty close in age to him. Me? I just tried not to get underfoot. It is, after all, what I do best. Well, that and donating body parts to James.

On Friday Jamie let me hang out with him, Freddie, and Lou. The latter two were going to start their seventh year at Hogwarts soon, and loved to cause trouble. When he wasn't in the hospital, James loved to play pranks and such with them.

To pass the tedium, they decided to transfigure a pillow into a puppy—a cute one mind you, with big brown eyes and silky yellow ears and fur—which I knew would make Mum flip her lid. We named the puppy Casablanca. Don't ask me why, I really have no clue. I think it was just the first thing that popped into Jamie's head, and Freddie and Lou decided to go with it. Casablanca was a ton of fun; tearing apart half of the room in a matter of minutes, and barking like crazy. Freddie fixed the room with a lazy flick of his wand, which, in case you care (you most likely don't) is ten and a third inches and comprised of birch and unicorn hair. Louis started playing tug of war with Cassie (as I inwardly called her) using a pair of Jamie's shorts. Jamie didn't really care, but Fred thought it was hilarious, especially seeing as the shorts in question had little red hearts and lips all over them; a joke gift from Teddy.

Mum must of heard the noise, for she came up the stairs, and, as I predicted, freaked out. She hoisted Cassie up by the scruff of her neck, dangling the helpless puppy out in front of her. "What in Merlin's name is this?" she questioned, although we all knew that she wasn't actually looking for an answer; she knew full well that the thing in her arms was a young dog. "You do realize that dogs are just germ carriers, and can get _some_ people sick, and _some _people can't afford to get sick all because of some mangy mutt!" she shouted, chest heaving.

Freddie and Lou hung their heads, part in shame and part in self-preservation. Jamie sighed resignedly.

With that Mum turned and strode from the room, holding the dog as though it were something disgusting. I raced after her, knowing that nothing good could be in store for Cassie. "Mum!" I cried as I pelted through the front door behind her. "Mum! Don't hurt Cassie! She's just a puppy! She can't hurt us. Please, can't we keep her? Please?" My voice shook as it sunk down to a frightened whisper; I knew that look on my mother's face.

"No harm? No harm, Lily! Your brother is sick, and this _thing_ could give him germs that could kill him! Or don't you care," she spat at me.

Her words shot into my heart like an arrow tip; painful and debilitating. I heard my precious blood pounding in my ears, and felt the pain spread through my chest eating me alive. "Mum," I whispered, voice cracking and eyes stinging. "I-I-Of course I care," my voice barely loud enough for her to hear. How could she think that I didn't care about my own brother?

"Well you have a funny way of showing it," she snapped, already retreating into the now puppy free house, Cassie having been vanished into thin air moments earlier. As she disappeared from sight, I sank to the ground, wounded and gasping for air.

You may be under the impression that I hate my family, and am resentful towards my parents and James for making me be a human department store, but the truth is, I don't. Not even in the slightest. James gave me life, and it is only fair that I give him some of mine. That is the very least I can do. I don't mind the time I spend in hospitals, or the pain of operations, or the hundreds of needle pricks. I don't mind any of it, because I love Jamie and I know that if that is what it takes to make him better, then this is what I will do.

You may think that I hate my mother. Well, I don't. I love her with all of my heart. She is just fighting for James to stay alive, and so am I, so we're really not that different; we're two sides to the same coin if you will. She is only fierce because she loves Jamie so much. She gave up her whole life so that she could be constantly there for her oldest child, and for that, I admire her. She'd do the same for Al in a heartbeat. And for me too. I think.

As I sat on the ground, nursing my hurt feelings, the air around me was growing stiff with static. I'm not sure exactly how long I was sitting there before it happened, but at one point lightning cracked through the sky and exploded over my head, signaling the heavens to release a torrential downpour right over me. I sighed, getting slowly to my feet and trudging inside.

I stood sopping wet just inside the door, hesitating. My mother came out of nowhere holding a huge fluffy blue towel. She wrapped it around me, trapping me inside and pulling me into a hug; our fight from earlier forgotten. "Lily, what am I going to do with you?" she asked me, pushing me away gently and holding me at arms distance. "You are an absolute mess," she chastised lightly, a twinkle in her brown eyes.

My arms were pinned in the towel, so I could not push her away, so I contented myself in saying, "I dunno, Mum. Maybe you should throw me out a window."

"Or off the roof," she grinned down at me.

"Now _that's_ a plan," I told her, faking genuine agreement.

"Oh, but it is, Dear. You see, I'd haul you to the roof in the dead of night, and just drop you off. I wouldn't even hurt that much. You'd land in the bushes; nice and soft, you see," she said, pretending to be serious.

"Oh, I _do_ see, Mum," I smiled, "But there is one slight flaw in your master plan."

"And what would that be, Dear?" she asked me interestedly.

"Well you'd have to get me up to the roof in the first place," I smirked, knowing that I'd had this conversation good and won. I did not however, expect my mother to scoff, and burst out laughing.

"Lily Dear," she said, the laughter still etched on her face, "That would not be even the slightest problem; you are teensy. Why, I could lift you with one finger."

I scowled, not actually upset, and put on my most daring face, "Oh really?" I asked loftily.

"Really," she nodded somberly. And then she lunged toward me, and scooped me up. I had my arms stuck to my side by the darned piece of fabric that was supposed to be drying me, so I could do no more than shriek and squirm, doing my best to free myself from my mother's grip. To be honest, I wasn't really succeeding, at all.

Mum carried me to the top of the steps, me still fighting like a madman to get away, both of us laughing the whole time. We were down the hall and almost to the steps of the attic when there was a crash from James' room. Before I knew it, I was sitting dumbly on the ground, towel still wrapped around me, and my mother was back at the door leading to Jamie's room. In a flash, she had disappeared from my sight inside the room, and just like that, my mother stopped being my mother. She was no longer, 'Ginny Potter: wife to Harry Potter, mother to James, Albus, and Lily, surrogate mother to Teddy, Aunt to Victoire, Dominique, Louis, Molly, Lucy, Rose, Hugo, Fred and Roxanne.' That woman was long gone, and in her place stood James Sirius Potter's mother, and no one else's.

During one of James' longer relapses, my mother took me to a spa with her. I was seven. We had our nails done, and sat in a hot tub, and went in the steam room, and got facials. For that one day, I felt like a normal child. I got to spend time with my mother, not James' mother, but mine. For once, her primary goal was to make me feel better. It worked. She promised me we would go again next month. But James relapsed, so instead of my mother-daughter spa say, I underwent bone marrow transplant so that my brother could have a bone marrow aspiration. My mother wasn't even there when I woke up; she was on the next floor with James, who at the time, was going through his chemo, and puking his guts out.

I didn't realize that I had gotten up and walked down the hall, but I was standing in the doorway to Jamie's room, watching my mother bend over my unconscious and thrashing brother. "He's burning up," I heard her say quietly, not directed at me. My feet carried me over to the bed where I stared down at James. My mother stood up and said, "Expecto Patronum," and a beautiful silvery white horse galloped out the window and off into the storm. I extended my fingers tentatively, gasping when I felt the torrid skin.

Only one minute and thirty-four seconds had passed since Mum sent off her patronus into the cold, when I heard the front door slam, and my father's voice ringing through the house. "Ginny! Gin, what's wrong? I came as quick as I could! How is he?" There were heavy footsteps thundering towards us, and moments later my dad burst through the door.

"Harry, he's burning up! We need to get him to the hospital as fast as we can," my mother cried. My dad immediately took charge, wrapping Jamie in the blanket on his bed and picking him up. Now before you ask how my dad is possibly strong enough to pick up a sixteen year old boy, I'll just tell you that the boy in question is incredibly thin, thanks to chemo. Chemotherapy makes you vomit like there is no tomorrow, and you have a tendency to lose weight when anything you eat just comes back up an hour later.

Dad carried him out and Mum followed close behind. It took me a few seconds to realize what was going on before I hurried after. They were already in the car when I dashed back out into the rain, yelling for them to wait. Dad rolled down the car window and I peered in, making out Mum in the back with Jamie lying across the seat, shiny head in her lap, convulsing. "Hope, we're going to the emergency room. Tell Al to call Uncle Ron and Auntie Hermione to come over and bring you dinner. If we are not back by bedtime, Albus is in charge, and one of your Aunt or Uncle's may come over to stay with you. Do you understand?" he asked me urgently, already pulling out of the driveway.

"Yes, Daddy," I said in a small voice. This was not good, and I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't scared.

"I love you, Hope," he called through the rain, car already zooming away.

"I love you too, Daddy," I said quietly, well aware that there was no one there to hear me.

My dad calls me Hope because he says that I give him hope. He told me once that when I was born, he knew that I would save them all, not just James. As much as I hate to admit it, I know that my father was wrong; I'm not saving James, and I'm not saving our family. I can't even save myself. Then again, I think that I was never the one meant to survive.

I traipsed back inside, not caring about the enormous puddles of muddy water I was making with every step that I took. I slowly climbed up to Albus' room, and knocked on the door. There was no answer, so I pushed it open and squelched into the room. Albus was slumped at his desk, his head in a book, and ear buds in his ears (we had all gotten addicted to muggle music and muggle objects due to all of the time we spent around muggles, i.e. in the hospital). That would explain why he hadn't heard the commotion. "Al," I whispered, although there was no need. "Albus," I said a little more loudly. I took nine and a half steps over to his desk. I leaned down, peering at the book his face was currently resting in, unaware that my sopping hair was dripping onto the back of his bare neck. _Watership Down_, hmm, an old one. I loved that book. It used to reside on my shelf, but Al must have nicked it.

"Wha?" came a bleary voice as my brother sat up, rubbing his eyes, and feeling the dampness of his hair and neck, courtesy of moi.

"Albie, Mum and Daddy had to take Jamie to the ER; they told me to get you to call Auntie Hermione and Uncle Ron." The effect of my one sentence was instantaneous. Albus stood up and strode out into the hall, me pursuing. That seemed to be what I was doing best today, well, all of my life really, just following my brothers and parents around, never making my own way.

Down in the parlor, Al grabbed a handful of Floo powder, something that I was absolutely forbidden from doing. "Stay here Lily," he warned me, and tossed the powder into the fire that he had lit with his wand three seconds ago, calling out "Holly Gables," the name of our Aunt and Uncle's house. He vanished in a burst of green flames.

I sat down on the couch, not caring that I was drenching it in water. "It's starting again," I thought. I knew Jamie was going through Chemo, and was relapsing, but there had yet to be a frantic rush to the ER due to some horrible symptoms for a long time, which frankly, is a miracle. But don't think James hasn't been on death's doorstep all of that time. No, there were plenty of times in the hospital where there were scares and awfulness, but he was already _in_ the hospital during those periods, so we didn't rush to the ER.

I remember the last ER dash; Jamie was fourteen, I was eight, and he had started to hemorrhage. It wasn't pleasant, I can tell you.

We had been out back playing parents vs. kids Quidditch (it took a lot of pleading, and promising to keep him safe for Dad to get Mum to allow Jamie to play with us). Jamie was in a pretty long remission, you see. He'd been out of the hospital and healthy for a good seven months. James had gone inside to use the loo, and our parents were capitalizing on our lack of a teammate. After Mum scored a particularly fantastic goal and was doing a victory loop, we heard a shout from inside. Touchdown. Mum was on the ground in less than a second.

"Dad!" yelled Jamie's panicked voice. That was odd. Normally it's Mum who gets called in. "Dad! It's back!" We all knew what that meant.

Dad used his wand to magically unlock the door to the bathroom, and shut the door behind him, blocking us out, but not before I saw James splattered in blood, standing dumbstruck by the sink.

Hemorrhaging (severe bleeding) is a calling card for APL. It was the sign that Jamie was in clinical relapse. The next step for Jamie was to have a bone marrow transplant, which involved the donation of bone marrow by a matched donor. Care to guess who got the honor? Ya, I didn't think so. But _that_ is a story for another day.

I waited all of seven minutes before the fireplace lit up, and out stepped my Auntie Hermione. She neatly brushed off the soot and stepped onto our hearth. "Lily," she cried upon seeing me. "You are going to catch your death like that! You're soaking wet!" She glided forward to my side, right as Al appeared in the flames. He was not quite as graceful as our aunt: coughing and smacking his head on the chimney, and then tripping over the grate and toppling out onto the rug, winding up in a pile of soot and limbs on the floor. I think he gets it from Dad, but I don't really know: I've never traveled by Floo now, have I.

"Up. Get up," commanded Auntie Hermione, tugging at my arms, practically lifting me off of the couch. "Come on, you need to take a nice warm bath. We don't want you to get sick."

"Ya, one child in the hospital is enough." I whipped my head around to see where the voice came from and was met by my Uncle Ron stepping out onto the carpet. His words felt raw. I know that what he said was true, but even still... It just didn't feel right joking about that when James could be dying at that very moment for all I knew.

I glanced back at my aunt and saw her glaring at him. "_Ronald_, why don't you go back and look after our own children," she suggested, though it wasn't really a suggestion, more like an order. Uncle Ron hastily agreed, bid us farewell, and was gone in the blink of an eye.

I was shepherded up to the lavatory by Aunt Hermione. She turned on the tub, running the water until it was just right, and began to fill the tub. When the bath was filled, she told me to raise my arms, and pulled my sopping shirt over my head. I don't know why, but she has always treated me like a baby, and apparently wasn't going to change now. Next came my shorts and then my knickers. I let her do all of this because, frankly, I didn't really care. I had other, more pressing things on my mind to be honest.

"Lily," she spoke kindly, but it didn't make her words any more welcome, "I know you think you're all grown up, but you're still a kid. You only turned ten last week. Plus, I'll let you in on a secret," she lowered her voice to a stage whisper, "I miss having my kids be little. I always feel so old, so you're making me feel better." I figured that this was probably true, but again, at the moment, I didn't much care.

It normally annoys me to no end when strangers come up to me and try to ooh and ah at how cute I am. They treat me like some little kid. They'll see me, come over and say, "Oh, aren't you adorable," in that obnoxiously high voice that people use to talk to babies or dogs. If I'm with one of my parents the conversation will go something like this; "Your daughter is adorable. " "Thank you." "What's her name?" "Lily." "How old is she, six?" "No, she's actually nine." "Hi, I'm Lily, and I'm standing right here just in case you didn't notice, so you can just ask me instead of talking through my parents," that's me, in case you didn't guess. "Oh, isn't she cute!" Insert face-palm by yours truly. I mean come on; I'm not some little kid. Let's face it; growing up in my family, I never had the chance to be one.

When my aunt finished giving me a bath, she dried me in a towel, holding me in her arms like my mother had done less than an hour ago. It felt like a century had passed between then and now. She was sitting on the lip of the tub, and had pulled me into her arms, burying her face in my lavender-scented hair. "Lily baby, you know that I love you, right?" she told me.

I nodded, unwilling and unable to form a response.

She then dressed me in a pair of purple pajamas, and took me back downstairs. I sat in her lap on the couch (she had dried it in an instant with her wand) while she combed my hair, and then plaited it, fingers moving swiftly in and out, fast and firm, but never tugging.

Dinner that night was subdued. Aunt Hermione kept up a steady stream of light conversation, but Al and I were pretty somber. I wonder why.

All we could do was wait for my parents to return home. At 11:37 Aunt Hermione sent me to bed, telling me that she would wake me if she heard anything or if my mum and dad came home. She tucked me in, gave me an extra long kiss, said "I love you," and closed the door. Now we just had to wait.

* * *

**Thank you so much for reading! I love you all! I would be very grateful for some feedback. Corrections (grammatical and medical are welcome; in fact, they are the most valuable of all, so I would be very appreciative of any). Also, if anyone is interesting in betaing, please let me know. Again, sorry for the long wait, and thanks to all of you. Lots of Love  
-Lia** :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Hi everybody! So I know it's been a really long time and I know that you are probably annoyed at me for being such a flake (don't worry, I'd be annoyed at me too) but I finally have a new chapter to this story. My life as of now is in a state of turmoil and kind of sucks at the moment but I won't bore you with my drama. What I want to say though is that writing makes everything bad go away and it has and hopefully will continue to be a pleasure writing this story knowing that at least a few people will read and enjoy it. So thank you to all of you who are reading this, newcomers and oldcomers (I don't think that's actually a word) alike; you are all fantastic. So here it is.**

* * *

When I was three years old I donated bone marrow for the first time. James was on death's doorstep, and had needed a transplant for about a year, but Mum and Dad—Dad especially—had put their feet down and said that there would be no transplant until I had reached the age of three; Jamie would have to wait. That was the only time that I ever recall being put ahead of James. Well, I don't really _recall_ it, but I've heard the story from Al, and I read my Auntie Hermione's journal (an amazing discovery made by Hugo that allowed me to track the history of my family, ever since James was diagnosed, through my aunt's eyes), so I know the story well enough.

Al told me that I had cried. A lot. He said that I had cried when Dad set me down on the floor. He said I cried even harder when they wheeled me away into the operating room He said they could hear me balling from the waiting room, but that makes no sense because I was under anesthetics (usually no anesthetics are used, but because I was so young, they deemed it prudent). And he said that I had cried the hardest when I woke up to the intense pain coming from my hip and back. That much I believe. You see, donating bone marrow is, what many people describe as horrific. Of coarse, most of those people are conscious during the surgery, while I was drugged up, but it still hurt when I woke up.

If you have ever had the misfortune to undergo a bone marrow donation, my heart goes out to you. I myself have now undergone seven transfusions and I can tell you one thing; it hurts like bloody hell. If you don't already know, in order to obtain the marrow from your pelvic bones, the doctors have to stick needles deep down into your bones in several locations to draw out the marrow. Just thinking about it makes me cringe.

You wake up from the surgery, and I swear to Merlin that it is like having a muggle truck run you over. You hurt all over. It hurts when you try to roll over in the white linin sheets. It hurts when you try to shift your head a fraction of an inch so that you are on the pillow. It hurts when you breathe. It hurts when you are not moving. It hurts when you are on painkillers. It even hurts when you are unconscious. Did I mention that it hurts? Just checking.

When I came back to consciousness after the surgery, my father gave me a necklace. He had told me that I gave Jamie a special gift, so I deserved one of my own. The necklace was a gorgeous lily with a diamond inscribed in the middle. On the back of it, etched in the tiniest letters I have ever seen were the words "It is often in the darkest skies that we see the brightest stars." I have never taken it off. To this day, it still rests over my heart.

When I wake in the morning, it is to the sounds of my aunt fixing breakfast. A groan escaped my lips as I remembered the events of the night before. Why can't this just end? Why can't Jamie just get better? Why did this have to happen to him? To us? Couldn't he have just been born healthy? Merlin must really hate my family. I mean, look at the way life played out for my parents. Daddy was orphaned, he was targeted by Lord Voldemort throughout his teenage years, he had to watch tons of innocent people die along with those who protected and loved him, and he had to finish off the evil man himself. Mum lost her childhood too, and she lost her brother as well. They both risked their lives for the good of the world, and now they end up with a child who is always on Death's doorstep, and another useless one who can't do her stupid job right and fix this damn mess. What did they to deserve all of this?

I brushed away the angry tears with a furious hand, climbing out of bed. Shoving the thoughts of my own failure and uselessness out of my mind, I make my bed. Without a sound, I flicker down the stairs. Just outside the kitchen I stop and force a small smile onto my face. I have to be strong for Albus. It would only hurt him to see me panicking and upset.

"It smells great, Auntie Hermione," I said, as I entered, gesturing towards the pan of rubbery looking eggs and the blackened sausage. Aunt Hermione is a rubbish cook but it's a rather touchy subject for her.

She scrutinizes me for a minute before thanking me, placing a plate loaded with her inedible creation in front of me with an "Eat up, Lily dear." As she turns her back, I pull a face at my brother. It works; Al's somber face brightens momentarily.

Even though I was dying to ask about James, I held my tongue. Al had finally cheered up a bit, and I didn't want to bring him back down. He however read my mind and said, "Cancer's back full throw. Last night was his immune system pretty much crashing. He's back in reverse isolation. Mum and Dad don't want us there now."

"Oh." That was pretty much all I could manage at the moment. I knew that reverse isolation was not a good thing. If, at any point, Jamie got any germs or infections, because his immune system was not functioning, it could kill him. This was bad.

Aunt Hermione interrupted the retched silence to tell me that after I finished my breakfast, we were going to go to Diagon Alley. When I asked why, she said that it was high time that Albus go back-to-school shopping, and that I needed some new clothes. I knew that these were not her real intentions for taking us. She just wanted to take our minds off of James. I appreciated this and therefore did not challenge her. Instead I took a bite of my neon colored eggs, gagged and forced the rubbery goo down my throat, wincing.

After I finished (chucked them out the window when my aunt wasn't watching) my eggs, I traipsed up the stairs. Lying out on my bed, clearly summoned out by Aunt Hermione was a pink dress with white polka dots and a green sash with a bow and daisy on it. This dress was suitable for a six year old for Merlin's sake! I was not wearing it. I fished in my wardrobe and pulled out a pear of denim shorts and a light purple halter-top that Mum had bought for me for my birthday.

Back downstairs in several minutes, Aunt Hermione surveyed me for a moment or two before deeming that this outfit is far too revealing and mature for me. Revealing? I don't have anything to reveal for Merlin's sake! I'm ten! Before I can protest, she drags me upstairs and tries to force me into that childish dress.

"No," I cried, outraged, "Aunt Hermione, I'm not wearing that!"

"Yes you are Lily," she insisted; she's as stubborn as me.

"But it's meant for some little kid!"

"You _are_ a little kid!" she exclaimed, seemingly exasperated to no end.

"I am not!"

"Just put on the dress Lily," she warned.

"Can't I please just wear something else?" I begged, determined not to go out in public looking any younger than I already do.

"Fine!" Aunt Hermione gave in. I grinned, _score one for Lily_. "But I get to pick it out."That wiped the smirk off of my face.

Forty minutes later we reached muggle London, and parked the car. As we walked through the streets, I hung my head in shame; I had been forced into a flowery shirt and matching skirt, and my hair had been yanked into two long plaits. I could barely believe how stupid I looked. Not that it really mattered though, what with James in the hospital and all, but if she was trying to make us forget about him for a bit and have a good time, you'd think that my aunt wouldn't make me even more miserable by dressing me like a toddler.

The actual truth is that, while I strongly disliked what I was wearing, I didn't care all that much. I knew it made Aunt Hermione feel better to treat me like a little kid and I knew that it amused Albus to see me fighting with her about this. He thought it was funny, which is precisely why I put up such a big stink about all of this. I wasn't that shallow as to really care about how I looked when my brother lay, most likely dying, in the hospital. However it made Al and Auntie Hermione feel better so that made me feel a teeny bit better too.

We got through muggle-London just fine. It was when we reached The Leaky Cauldron that the trouble began. Inside the pub, everyone stopped talking as soon as they noticed us. All at once everyone rushed up, snapping pictures, pulling out quills and parchment, and bombarding us with questions.

"_Albus Potter, are you worried about your brother? How does his illness make you—"_

"_Hermione, care to give a few words on the state of the International Anti-Oppression of Magical Creatures Alike campaign? Has Zimbabwe finally agreed to join the union? Are they coming aro—"_

"_Hermione, tell us how your husband—"_

"_Lily, are you sad that—"_

"_Albus, are you meeting your father? Is he—"_

"_Are you out for a day with your niece and neph—"_

"_Does Ginny Potter Really think that the Kenmare Kestrals are going to lose to the Montrose Magpi—"_

"_Is Harry Potter—"_

"_Hermione, how does it make you feel knowing that your nephew is on death's—"_

"_Lily, are you going to save your brother's life—"_

"_Albus and Lily, are you worried about James's most recent—"_

"_Is James Potter going to live? Is he—"_

"_Hermione, can you tell us how Harry and Ginny feel about the condition of their eldest—"_

"_Albus, are the muggle doctors optimistic that James will—"_

"_Hermione, how are the Potters coping with all of James's recent health—"_

"_Lily and Albus, how do you feel about your parents way of—"_

"_James—"_

"_Hermione—"_

"_Albus—"_

"_Lily—"_

"_Potters—"_

"_James—"_

The questions flew at us from all directions, leaving stinging welts where they fell. Al refused to make eye contact with anyone, staring determinedly at his shoes with a scowl on his face. I had frozen like a grindylow in hot water. It was Auntie Hermione who took action. She grabbed both Al's and my hands and pulled us through the crowd. She ignored the questions, not even giving the occasional 'no comment.'

Auntie Hannah came rushing out from behind the bar. She ushered us behind into a back room, at the same time chivying the nosy reporters and people out of the door. As I stood behind the now shut door, listening to my "Aunt" shouting, I caught sight of Al's face. His expression was one of rage. Fury made his eyes glitter in a menacing way that I had only once before seen, and that was when a muggle boy a few years ahead of me in primary school had been taunting me after shoving me off of the swings.

I had been swinging quietly back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, thinking about how it would feel to live with only one kidney. So lost in my thoughts, I failed to notice Mark Wilson, a big kid from the oldest grade in my primary school coming towards me. Marcus was the biggest eleven-year-old I have ever seen, and he never failed to use his size to his advantage. Before I knew what had happened, I had a face full of wood chips, bloody knees and palms, and Mark was sitting on my swing.

"Hey runt," he'd leered, cruel smile curling across his dumb face. I made to sit up, but his foot swung out of nowhere, catching me in the chest, and sending me crashing back down to the ground, wind knocked out of my lungs. I pride myself in saying that, even at age nine, I did not so much as whimper; I'd felt plenty worse pain that a kick from some idiot bully.

"So," he drawled, "since you have no friends, I reckon you have plenty of time to do my homework for me." After regaining my breath, I stood and began to walk away. Sadly, I was not so lucky; Mark grabbed me by my hair, yanking nearly hard enough to pull out my entire plait. "I said, you could do my homework for me," he growled. "So I expect you to do it."

It was lucky that Albus sprinted out from behind the nearest tree at that moment, because if he'd come any later, I probably would have kicked the kid in the crotch, which most likely would have resulted in me getting the piss beaten out of me. He shouted something unintelligible, storming straight up to Mark. "What the hell are you doing?" His brilliant green eyes flashed dangerously, glittering with righteous anger.

"Little bitch here was giving me cheek," he snarled. "I'm teaching her a lesson."

"Get your hands off my sister!" Al spat. When Mark did nothing but smirk, Al yelled, "_Now_!" and took a giant swing at him, punching him square in the nose. Immediately his death grip on my hair ceased and he fell down, howling, both hands pressed to his now bloody nose. With a furious expression fixed on his normally placid face, Al told the bully in a threatening voice, "Don't you ever call my sister that again! And if you lay another hand on her, or any other little kid, I swear to Mer—God," he caught himself, "I will personally make sure that you have no hands to hurt anyone with! Do I make myself clear?"

With tears in his murky eyes, and blood mingling with fear on his face, Mark nodded, and scrambled up. Swiftly, he ran away, still clutching his nose.

Al turned to me, his anger melting into concern, "Are you all right Lily Bug?"

"'Course I am, Ally," I said in awe. Not only was Albus a total wimp who'd never hit anyone before, much less a kid three years his junior, but he had actually come to my defense, saving me. He had saved _me_.

Now, as I stared up at my big brother, I knew just how he felt. Those people didn't care that we didn't want to talk to them. They didn't care how their questions stung as they sliced through the air. They had no thought for their own insensitivity, and how it hurt us. They just didn't care. They'd do anything for a story. It was despicable. Al's face twisted as the memories of the voices replayed in his mind. I could still here them asking about James so callously. None of them truly cared about our brother, and that was the sad part. Sure, they'd be sad if their great savior's son died, but they'd cry for a bit and then move on. They wouldn't know the agonizing pain that would fill every crevice in our bodies, threatening to burst, bleeding a river of immutable anguish. And because of that, they would never understand why we refuse their questions. Why we never wave and smile. Why we don't pose for pictures or sign autographs. Why we glare at them with contempt in our eyes. Why we hate them.

When Auntie Hannah came back, she greeted us with a sad smile and warm hugs. "Hello Hermione, Albus, and Lily? I'm assuming that you're on your way to Diagon Alley today."

"Yes we are, Hannah. The kids need to go shopping; Al needs his school things, and Lily needs some clothes," Auntie Hermione replied, placing a gentle hand on Albus's head as she spoke.

"Well that's nice. Do you have time to catch up and have a drink, or are you in a hurry?" She asked.

"We have a busy day today," my aunt said, placing emphasis on the busy. I could see comprehension dawn in my almost aunt's eyes.

"Well if you have time to stop by for a bit, Neville and the girls are around. I think Frankie's at Louis's house, but we'd be glad to spend some time with you." Her words were accompanied by a genuine smile that fit flawlessly on her kind face. Auntie Hermione, nodding in agreement, promised that we would come back after we took care of the shopping. And with that, we were on our way after a few quick hugs and kisses from Aunt Hannah.

Shopping for Al's books took an exorbitant amount of time; Aunt Hermione wanted to read the back cover, index page, and first chapter of practically every book in the store. His robes, potions ingredients, and other necessary supplies were all bought fairly quickly though. It was the clothes shopping for me which Aunt Hermione insisted upon that took the longest by far. She made me try on outfit after outfit, all of which were adorable but I despised. This was such a waste of time! I didn't need new clothes! I could have been spending time at the hospital with Jamie.

Al at least seemed a bit distracted by our business. He couldn't help but grin whenever he saw me come out and exasperatedly parade (at our Aunt's insistence) the garments around for them. I was glad he was happier but at the same time, I wanted this stupid day to end. Why couldn't we just go to the hospital already?

Finally, after hours—I swear—we set out, laden with bags, back to the Leakey Cauldron. As soon as she caught sight of us, Aunt Hannah beckoned us into the hallway at the back of the pub. "You can go on up. I'll be there in a few; I just have to get Jack to cover for me. Frankie isn't home, and Alice may or may not be, but the girls are all home, and Neville should be back very soon. He had to run out to get some something." With her words, we walked past all of the rooms available to stay in. At the end of the hall, we climbed the stairs—all four flights—that lead to the Longbottom's flat. Now with seven of them, you'd expect that it would be a tight fit, but like Grandma and Grandpa's house, it's magically enchanted; it has an undetectable extending charm put on it.

"Albus!" cried Daisy as soon as she opened the door. Flinging herself at him, she gave him an enormous hug. "Auntie Hermione! Lily Luna!" For some odd reason, Daisy has always insisted on calling me Lily Luna, never just Lily like anyone else. I can't say that I mind even though it is a bit strange. She threw her arms around my aunt, and then enveloped me in a tight embrace. She had barely let go when she turned around to yell at the top of her lungs, a feat which both irked and awed me—I'd never dream of (or was allowed to) making so much noise, "Ivy! Mary! Get your bums down here now! We have company!" Albus chuckled.

Instantly, we heard footsteps thundering down the stairs, and seconds later Mary came bursting into the room. "Well Howdy do, Albus!" she exclaimed in an atrocious American accent, eliciting a further guffaw from my brother. "Hello Aunt Hermione. Hiya Lily." She advanced towards us, at the same time hastily shoving a bright green object into her pocket. "You can all dump your bags here, if you like," she said, gesturing towards the general vicinity of the table. "Geeze Al! Did you guys buy all of Diagon Alley? It's quite a shame, really, seeing as I was _so_ looking forwards to buying my new school books for the year."

Al rolled his eyes, just as a pretty girl with curly dark red hair entered the room. He immediately blushed and said, "Hey Ivy," running a nervous hand through his unnaturally untidy jet-black hair. We all knew Al had a huge crush on Ivy Longbottom. She liked him back too so we were just waiting to see when they'd get together.

"Hi Albus," she said quietly, averting her eyes and fiddling with her sleeve whilst her cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink that no Weasley could ever achieve; for us it was a flaming red that screamed "I am so embarrassed right now, I wish the ground would just open up and swallow me whole so that I could be eaten alive by nifflers and never have to live again!" or nothing.

"What, no hello for me? Do Lily and I just not exist?" Auntie Hermione joked. Ivy laughed, and came over to give both of us hugs, murmuring apologies. "It's quite all right, dear," she laughed. "We're just easy to forget about." Sadly, she spoke the truth, despite her clearly joking tone.

The Longbottoms aren't actually related to us, but they are really close family friends; they're practically family; they come to every Weasley Holiday celebration and they all get Weasley sweaters from Grandma. Uncle Neville is actually my godfather. He married Auntie Hannah and they have five kids: Frank and Alice who are both Louis and Freddie's age, Rosemary, who is the same age as Jamie, and goes almost solely by Mary, and Ivy and Daisy who are going into Fourth Year at Hogwarts with Al and Rosie.

I have no idea how Grandma makes so many sweaters. Not only do all twenty-six of us actual Weasley's get sweaters, but all of our Honorary Weasley's get sweaters for Christmas too! She makes at least forty-nine jumpers every year! If she has extra time (I can never believe she does) she makes more for friends and Weasley Cousin's from our parent's generation, and people in St. Mungo's. Our forty-nine-member clan includes the Jordans, the Woods, the Scamanders, the Smiths, and the Longbottoms. Holidays are mayhem.

In case you're curious, I am the _very_ youngest out of absolutely everybody in the entire clan. By a lot. Hugo is closest in age to me and he's three years older! Seeing as you might be confused and or curious as to who a lot of these people are, I'll give you the rundown. If, of course, you aren't confused and don't really care about this ridiculously ginormous family—I really don't blame you—feel free to skip my spiel which would otherwise take up the next four or so minutes of your life, depending, of course on how fast you read. Alright here goes.

Uncle Taylor is my Uncle Bill's best mate, second only to Uncle Charlie. He married Auntie Janette (just in case you're curious, it's pronounced _Je_—like the French word for "I"—_Net_), and they have one child, Jeanine, who is nineteen years old (the same age as Molly and Dom) and is currently working to open her own Apothecary. She was in Slytherin with Dom, and apparently was better at potions than the potions master himself. This makes up the Smith portion of our family.

Next, we have the Woods. Uncle Oliver is good mates with Uncle George, Aunt Angelina, and Uncle Percy, seeing as he's Uncle Percy's age, but coached the Gryffindor Quidditch team that my dad, two of my uncles, and one of my aunts were all on. He's married to Auntie Katie, who is actually one of Uncle George's very close friends. They have three sons; Thomas, Matthew, and Benjamin. Thomas is Jamie's age, and is a tried and true Gryffindor. Him and James are pretty close, well, that's when he's not at school and James isn't dying. Matthew is Roxie's age, and is a total goofball. He's a typical Hufflepuff: nice as can be, and loyal till death. Bennie and Al both got sorted into Slytherin, and are pretty good mates as far as I can tell. He's great. And, he's an amazing keeper; he made the house team in second year.

Then there's the Jordan family. Uncle Lee and Auntie Alicia are Uncle George's and Auntie Angelina's best friends. Alexis, who goes almost solely by Lexi, is going into her sixth year alongside Thomas. They have a thing. And by thing, I mean that they are in love with each other, but they just won't admit it yet. She's one of the prettiest girls I've ever seen—which is saying a lot seeing as pretty much every girl in my family except me is drop-dead-gorgeous—with skin a perfect shade of caramel, and long straight dark hair that Roxie is unbelievably jealous of. Her younger brother Kasey is Hugo's best mate and like his older sister, is in Gryffindor. He's a funny kid, though rather immature I must say.

The Longbottoms, starting with Uncle Neville and Auntie Hannah, who are both good friends of my parents and Uncle Ron and Hermione, are probably the most cheerful family you will ever meet. The eldest two, Frank and Alice, are twins, obviously fraternal. They're the same age as Louis and Freddie, and best friends, all going into their final year at Hogwarts. Lou and Alice are soul mates, which Frankie is surprisingly chill about. They are both in Gryffindor with my cousins. Next is Rosemary, who prefers to be called Mary (which is quite lucky, because she and Rose would have otherwise had incredibly similar names). She is the lone non-twin in her family, but she doesn't mind. She's the same age as Roxie, and apparently can't wait for her fifth year to start, despite the upcoming OWLs. Her and Rox get into a heap of trouble all of the time, and she's totally in love with Freddie (who's absolutely head over heals for her). It's funny, but Frankie is totally overprotective over her, even though Fred is his other best mate besides Louis. I think it's because not only is she younger but he also knows better than to act that way with Alice, who would curse a part of his male anatomy that I'm not supposed to say off if he tried. Ivy and Daisy are fraternal twins also, and are about as different as twins go. Daisy, the perfect Hufflepuff, is loud, outgoing, cheerful, friendly, though often careless in her enthusiasm, while Ivy is a model Ravenclaw; quiet, bookish, shy, and prudent, often lost in thought. It's pretty clear Ivy and Al will wind up together but both are too shy and embarrassed to admit they like each other. Hugo has the biggest crush on Daisy, which is pretty cute. I think it will work out, despite him being a year younger than her.

Last is the Scamander family. Auntie Luna is my Mum's best friend and my godmother. I was named partly for her. She's also good friends with my Daddy and gets on nicely with Auntie Hermione and Uncle Ron. She and Uncle Rolf are so cool; they've traveled all over the world in search of rare magical creatures. They offered to take me once, but mum said no. Their twin sons are identical, and both in Ravenclaw. Lysander and Lorcan are the neatest boys I've ever met. Lorcan's pretty quiet, often pondering. What he's pondering, I can only imagine. He's Al's age, but that doesn't stop him from having the most enormous secret crush on Lucy ever. She's three years older, and even though she'd never admit it, I think she likes him back. We'll just have to wait and see. Sander on the other hand, is a bit more outgoing, and from what I've heard, really popular. Most people can't tell the twins apart, but the trick is to just look in their eyes; Sander's silver eyes are always shining so brightly, and have a humorous little sparkle that his twin's lack. Plus, if the eye thing doesn't work for some reason, Sander has a little scar right by his left collarbone from when he was little and got bit by a baby fanged geranium. Plus he also always smiles just a bit bigger, and talks just a bit louder.

So there you have it, my enormous and crazy family. It's pretty insane. And we're not even counting my Aunt and Uncle's parents and siblings, or my mum and uncles' cousins. That would take forever. I'm not joking. At the last Weasley family reunion, three years ago, I counted one-hundred and three of us. Isn't that insane? No normal family should be that big. And, if you believe it, I am currently the youngest of everyone. None of the previous generation of Weasley cousins have kids who have had their own kids yet, which is odd, because we're supposed to breed like gnomes, and plenty of them are of a respectable age to have kids. But what can you do?

Within five minutes, Ivy and Albus, accompanied by a very enthused Daisy, had retreated up the stairs to one of girls' bedrooms. They used to share a room, but when Frankie and Alice got their own rooms, Auntie Hannah thought it best to expand the house and give them their own rooms so that it would all be fair. It worked out well for them because exactly a week later, Ivy pronounced that her favorite color was no longer pink, but blue, and Daisy, a diehard pink addict, was distraught by her sister's "betrayal," proclaiming that she could not share a room, be friends with, or even related to someone who didn't like pink. Of course a whole big fight followed, but they got over it, obviously. They were only seven, after all. I know better than to try and join the three of them. My two aunts are preoccupied in a lengthy gossip session involving two glasses of wine and hushed tones so that left Mary and me.

She skipped over to the kitchen, waving at me to follow her, which, of course, I did. Pulling out her wand, Mary was just opening her mouth to utter a spell, when I realized what she was doing. "Mary, you're not supposed to use magic outside of school, it's against Wizarding Law."

She chuckled, "Oh Silly Lily. I live in a magical household, they'll never know it was me who cast the spell." She said, patting me on the head like some little dog, still smiling.

"But it's _illegal_," I reminded her, "You could get caught and be expelled from school."

"What's life without a little fun? C'mon, don't be such a worrywart. Sometimes you just gotta live on the edge, take risks, break rules, be reckless, and have _fun_." I winced a little on the inside. Clearly, she does not understand my life. The only risks in my life are medical related ones ("Is this procedure safe for Lily?" "It has a eighty-five percent success rate." "Sounds safe." "But what about the fifteen percent of failed cases…" etc). So ya, my life's kind of boring. But I decided to drop it; it was a fight I knew I would not win.

Mary summoned three bowls, four spoons, five baking sheets, parchment paper, and an assortment of ingredients (flour, brown sugar, white sugar, vanilla extract, eggs, baking soda, chocolate chips, and butter) from the pantry. After they were all set out on the marble counter, she once more flicked her wand towards the oven, which turned on with a clang. "Alrighty, Silly Lily," (she always calls me that, much to my chagrin and despite my protests) "I'll put away my wand now. The rest we're doing the good ole muggle way. Using magic takes the fun out of it. Plus they taste better when they're made with _love_." True to her word, she set her wand down on the table. "But first, before we start, we must wash our hands." Well _duh_, everybody knows that. I traipsed over to the sink, ready to complete the obvious, only to realize that the soap was on a shelf above the sink. Great. I couldn't reach it. The obvious thing to do was to pull a chair over to stand on, but of course, Mary couldn't let me do that. She snorted, and asked me why I couldn't just climb up.

"What if I break something valuable, or fall and make a lot of noise, or hurt myself? Then what? Everyone'll be mad." Really, I didn't know why she was giving me such an odd look. _She_ was the one being impractical, not _me_.

Other than that, we made our cookies without much trouble. Unless you count all the times where she wanted to add things to the mix that were most definitely _not_ in the recipe. Other than that, it went quite smoothly.

* * *

**I've been writing this in increments and because it's so many words and my time is so sparse it takes a while (like months) so if any of you keep reading (I am so humbled that I actually have sixteen followers and over two-thousand views) please continue your excellent and incredibly kind patience with me; I most likely won't have an update for another few months (I know, I know; I pretty much suck but I am currently fighting a fierce battle with the world-me vs. life-and it appears that life is winning).  
If you want I can post another age guide (with my screwy ages for the entire next generation plus extended Weasley clan courtesy of my imagination) if you want. Just let me know. Reviews, corrections, opinions, thoughts, scientific fact duhs that I should have known but for some reason don't know, etc are always appreciated. And if you wish to launch a complaint or rant or talk about random fanfiction-related things, you can PM me also (if you haven't picked up on it; I'm rather desperate-stupid teenage girl drama entails that I now apparently have no friends-so of course I am seemingly violating internet safety rules by wanting to talk to strangers, but I'm not actually that creepy; I'm just...well...ya; I'm creepy and lonely and tired (which is why I'm rambling), so now it's out in the open and we don't need to beat around the bush and pretend we don't all know.  
Anywho. Still looking for a beta reader...  
Well, thanks for reading and putting up with that craziness above; I'll probably delete it tomorrow when I'm functioning on more than six hours of sleep for the past forty-eight hours. You guys are the best and I love you all. Lots of love,**  
**-Lia**


	7. Age Chart For The Extended Weasley Clan

**So I was having trouble keeping track of the ages I set for all of the Clan in this story (like I said earlier, I had to change around the ages from how they normally are in my head to make this story work (you'll see why later on)) so I figured that if the author can't keep it straight, then there's a problem because there's no way the reader will be able to. So here is a comprehensive age and house list to hopefully help. I apologize to anyone who thought this was a new chapter. I am fully aware that I suck. I can expand this list, if you want, to include relationships and friendships and whatnot but only if you want... So ya, that's about it. Sorry to disappoint.**

**Teddy Lupin** 23 _Hufflepuff_

**Victoire Weasley ** 21 _Ravenclaw_

**Jeanine Taylor ** 19 _Slytherin_

**Molly Weasley ** 19 _Gryffindor_

**Dominique Weasley** 19 _Slytherin_

**Louis Weasley** 17 _Gryffindor_

**Lucy Weasley ** 17 _Slytherin_

**Fred Weasley** 17 _Gryffindor_

**Frank Longbottom** 17 _Gryffindor_

**Alice Longbottom** 17 _Gryffindor_

**James Potter** 16 _—_

**Alexis (Lexi) Jordan** 16 _Ravenclaw_

**Thomas Wood** 16 _Gryffindor_

**Roxanne (Roxie) Weasley ** 15 _Gryffindor_

**Matthew Wood ** 15 _Hufflepuff_

**Rosemary (Mary) Longbottom ** 15 _Gryffindor_

**Rose Weasley ** 14 _Gryffindor_

**Albus Potter ** 14 _Slytherin_

**Benjamin Wood ** 14 _Slytherin_

**Ivy Longbottom ** 14 _Ravenclaw_

**Daisy Longbottom ** 14 _Hufflepuff_

**Lorcan Scamander ** 14 _Ravenclaw_

**Lysander Scamander ** 14 _Ravenclaw_

***Scorpius Malfoy ** 14 _Slytherin_

**Hugo Weasley ** 13 _Gryffindor_

**Kasey Jordan ** 13 _Gryffindor_

**Lily Potter ** 10 _—_

*Scorpius, while an Honorary Weasley, is not like the other Honorary Weasleys because it's just him, not his entire family, that has _Clan_ status


	8. Goodbye

**So I was having trouble keeping track of the ages I set for all of the Clan in this story (like I said earlier, I had to change around the ages from how they normally are in my head to make this story work (you'll see why later on)) so I figured that if the author can't keep it straight, then there's a problem because there's no way the reader will be able to. So here is a comprehensive age and house list to hopefully help. I apologize to anyone who thought this was a new chapter. I am fully aware that I suck. I can expand this list, if you want, to include relationships and friendships and whatnot but only if you want... So ya, that's about it. Sorry to disappoint.**

**Teddy Lupin** 23 _Hufflepuff_

**Victoire Weasley ** 21 _Ravenclaw_

**Jeanine Taylor ** 19 _Slytherin_

**Molly Weasley ** 19 _Gryffindor_

**Dominique Weasley** 19 _Slytherin_

**Louis Weasley** 17 _Gryffindor_

**Lucy Weasley ** 17 _Slytherin_

**Fred Weasley** 17 _Gryffindor_

**Frank Longbottom** 17 _Gryffindor_

**Alice Longbottom** 17 _Gryffindor_

**James Potter** 16 _—_

**Alexis (Lexi) Jordan** 16 _Ravenclaw_

**Thomas Wood** 16 _Gryffindor_

**Roxanne (Roxie) Weasley ** 15 _Gryffindor_

**Matthew Wood ** 15 _Hufflepuff_

**Rosemary (Mary) Longbottom ** 15 _Gryffindor_

**Rose Weasley ** 14 _Gryffindor_

**Albus Potter ** 14 _Slytherin_

**Benjamin Wood ** 14 _Slytherin_

**Ivy Longbottom ** 14 _Ravenclaw_

**Daisy Longbottom ** 14 _Hufflepuff_

**Lorcan Scamander ** 14 _Ravenclaw_

**Lysander Scamander ** 14 _Ravenclaw_

***Scorpius Malfoy ** 14 _Slytherin_

**Hugo Weasley ** 13 _Gryffindor_

**Kasey Jordan ** 13 _Gryffindor_

**Lily Potter ** 10 _—_

*Scorpius, while an Honorary Weasley, is not like the other Honorary Weasleys because it's just him, not his entire family, that has _Clan_ status


End file.
